


Spider-Facts

by macaronigrille



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers Live Together, Domesticity, Endgame never happened, Infinity War never happened, Irondad, bruce and peter are an unstoppable duo, crackfic lowkey, peter has a crush on steve highkey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-03-13 19:15:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18947167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macaronigrille/pseuds/macaronigrille
Summary: In which Peter has a little bit more in common with spiders than he thought (and the team gets to know this nervous kid that Tony has around all the time).





	1. Spiders Eat More Insects than Bats and Birds Combined

**Author's Note:**

> Hey you guys! Got a lot of positive reviews on my first fic, so I decided I’d give this thing another shot. 
> 
> Basically, I’ve seen a lot of fics that involve Peter growing 8 legs and stuff and thought that was a little much for my own tastes, so I decided take my own spin on the Peter Has More Spider Powers Than He Thinks trope. Hope you folks enjoy! 
> 
> (This is part of a big ol series I have planned!!)

As far as Peter was concerned, this was the best day he was ever going to have.

It was a Friday. He’d gotten a 100% on his history test that he’d forgotten about, followed by a whole day of minimal teasing from Flash. Plus, Michelle chose to hang out with him and Ned instead of reading during lunch. Bonus: she actively talked with them for the entire half-hour. Peter didn’t think that would ever happen.

But above all, Happy would be picking him up after school to go stay at Avengers Tower for the weekend. 

Admittedly, he still hadn’t spent a lot of time at the tower. He’d never been there for more than a few hours to help Tony with the suit, opting to stay near Queens on patrol. Not only would this be his first whole weekend spent there, he’d also be spending time with one of his idols, Dr. Bruce Banner. 

Which hadn’t exactly sunk in yet. Yeah, Peter had briefly talked to Banner on a few occasions, but nothing extensive enough to make conversation with him a stress-free event. He still hadn’t quite gotten over the shock of speaking casually with him; he was on the wall of his science classroom, for crying out loud. Peter was thrilled. 

And not to mention, Peter liked spending time with Bruce as a person. The few times Peter had encountered him, he couldn’t help but notice that wherever Bruce was, a calm, pleasant aura surrounded him. Plus, he wasn’t as difficult to talk to as Tony. Bruce liked normal, friendly conversations, while Tony liked what Rhodey had once dubbed ‘verbal chess’.

This weekend, Tony and Peter were still planning to make minor adjustments to his suit, but Bruce had expressed an interest in examining Peter medically. It had been brought to his attention, most likely by a certain aunt, that Peter hadn’t seen a doctor since the bite (mostly to avoid any arachnid-centric questions, but also because they couldn’t quite find the time). Bruce had been asked to assess Peter’s everyday health, but also to determine any other, more unusual effects the bite might have had on his biology. He also may have said something about a personal interest in Peter’s case in particular. (Squee!)

Altogether, Peter couldn’t deny that he was excited.

At the sound of the last bell, Peter hurried to the school parking lot where he knew Happy would be waiting for him. Tony’s most modest vehicles still garnered more attention than Peter was comfortable with, so he always tried to leave campus as quickly as possible to avoid questions from his peers. On the way to the tower, Peter made one-sided conversation with Happy, and in turn, Happy made an honest attempt to stifle his cursing at traffic.

(Sometimes, Happy said really strange things instead of actual swear words. Peter had a comprehensive list of his favorites, including but not limited to “Jesus H Christ in a chicken basket” and “son of a beehive”.)

He thanked Happy when the car pulled up to the compound and practically did a tuck-and-roll out of the car. He greeted the receptionist, made friendly conversation with FRIDAY, and before he knew it he was walking into Bruce’s lab. 

“Hey, Dr. Banner,” Peter smiled and swung his backpack onto an unused chair. Bruce waved in reply and good-naturedly rolled his eyes, not quite looking up from what he was studying on a computer. “Bruce, Peter. Call me Bruce.” 

“I’m afraid that’s not an option, Dr. Banner.” He gracefully hopped up onto a lab table, swinging his legs to concentrate his unbridled excitement. “How was your day?”

He chuckled and gave a small shrug. “I’ve definitely had worse days,” he said, quite cryptically, and finally tore his attention away from whatever project he was focusing on. “How was school?”

“Really good!” Then he cocked his head. “Almost weirdly good.”

“Happy to hear. Take advantage of those days, Peter,” and the kid couldn’t quite ignore the bit of pain in his voice, gone before he knew it, but still very present and real.

“Today’s gonna be real simple,” Bruce continued before he could dissect his statement further. “We’re just gonna do some blood work. Stuff that you’ve probably had done before.” He was tugging on rubber gloves, and Peter’s eyes flitted to the empty bottle on the table next to Bruce, the packaged needle near, lying ominously in wait. 

“Gotcha,” Peter replied (just a little too quickly). He could feel his mouth go dry. 

Bruce frowned and examined Peter’s expression. 

“Needles?”

“Needles,” Peter sputtered back. 

Bruce nodded. “Hey, that’s okay. It’ll be over before you know it.”

Peter had read somewhere that none of Bruce’s pHDs we in medicine. However, he also knew that he’d worked as a doctor somewhere in Asia, and it showed. He was exceedingly gentle as he took Peter’s arm and rubbed the crook of his elbow with a disinfectant wipe.

“Ready?” Bruce picked up the syringe from the table. Peter nodded.

“Okay, look at my face. Tell me about your weirdly good day, Peter,” Bruce asked.

And Peter did. He could feel himself rambling about his test and about Flash and MJ and even shared a few of Happy’s not-swears and before he knew it, Bruce was slapping a Minion-themed bandaid on his arm and telling him that he did good. Peter loved that they kept Minion bandaids in a tower filled with superheroes.

“Uh… thanks, Dr. Banner,” Peter said, and Bruce shook his head.

“At this risk of sounding strange, this- your mutation, I mean- is interesting to me. It’s really my pleasure.” Peter went bright red at the.. Compliment? Was that a compliment? And muttered a thanks in return.

“When should we be getting the results? ‘Cause like, I’m gonna be here all weekend, so whenever is convenient for you, you can come get me-”

“Peter,” Bruce interjected. “They’ll be ready in a few minutes, don’t stress,” he smiled. 

He was able to wait semi-patiently until he saw Bruce frown at his results. His mind immediately dove to the worst possible outcomes. What if he was turning into a spider? Was the bite poisonous? Maybe because spiders have shorter lifespans-

“Have you eaten?”

Peter’s eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

Bruce shrugged. “Your blood sugar’s low. It’s nothing to be concerned about, but I would recommend grabbing a snack when you get the chance.”

Peter glanced at his watch. 4:00 PM. “I mean, I’ve had breakfast and lunch. Plus, Ned gave me some of his food today because he wasn’t hungry. How low is it?”

The tablet was tilted towards Peter, and though he wasn’t as experienced in biochemistry as Bruce was, he could decipher the basics of what the chart was telling him. “Enough,” Bruce answered. “A lot of mutants have an enhanced metabolism, so it’s not exactly surprising. Steve’s metabolism is absurdly fast. However, you also have teenage boy metabolism to deal with, so you might have to eat slightly more than him.”

“Huh,” Peter commented insightfully.

It was obvious to Peter that he was more hungry after he received his powers. He remembered needing to change his routines so he could eat more. He’d brought extra food with him every day to school, and regularly ate small supplementary meals throughout the day. He was used to being hungry at the end of every meal. He thought it was harmless, but the way that Bruce was staring at him was telling him otherwise.

“How much more should I be eating?” Peter asked tentatively. Frankly, he didn’t know if him and May could afford to feed him well.

Bruce’s face scrunched up in thought and he double checked the monitor. “It’s hard to say, but easily double the calories you’re consuming now.”

Peter’s brows furrowed. “Is this the type of thing where doctors say that you have to drink like two liters of water a day, but no one has ever done that before and we’re all doing fine?

“First of all, staying hydrated is shockingly important,” Bruce corrected playfully. “But yeah, It would definitely do you good to eat more. You live an incredibly active lifestyle, you can always afford to take in more calories than you need.”

“Huh.” Peter repeated and nodded his head. Then, they moved on to talk about other mundane things like blood pressure and healing factor.

\---

After his consultation with Bruce, Tony and Peter worked together in the lab until dinner. Instead of eating with the residents of the tower, Tony ordered a pizza and had it brought down to their lab. Peter teased that he was too impressionable and that Tony was going to make him an edgy, reclusive teenger. Tony argued that Peter was too stubborn to change any aspect of his personality unless someone specifically advised against it. Peter couldn’t necessarily argue with him.

“Are you on your seventh- eighth slice?”

Peter shrugged, feeling heat rise to his face. “Bruce told me that I’m not eating enough and that I have to raise my blood sugar.”

Tony spun in his chair to face Peter. “You usually eat less than me, have you been holding back? Shy or something?” He raised his eyebrows. 

“Well…” 

“This is a safe space. Here, you can be true to yourself,” Tony deadpanned. “No Place For Hate and whatnot.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Usually, I just don’t eat as much as I want to because I feel bad about people going out of their way to feed me. Like, I can eat a lot, and I don’t want to inconvenience, you know?”

Peter could recognize the look on Tony’s face. When someone around him does something completely absurd, his face goes slack, and he develops a specific kind of emptiness in his eyes. He thinks it’s ridiculously funny when he’s not on the other end of the expression. Unfortunately, Peter is almost exclusively on the other end of the expression.

“You’re kidding me. Kid, you’re aware of my net worth, yes? Do you think buying an extra pizza will kill me?”

Peter felt silly. He shook his head.

“Exactly,” Tony huffed. “You’re still hungry aren’t you?”

Peter was thoroughly embarrassed. He was tempted to lie, but saw the look Tony was still giving him and decided against it. He gave a terse nod, and Tony pushed the rest of the box toward him.

“Mr. Stark, you really don’t have to-”

Tony cut him off with a simple raise of the hand. “Jesus, kid. There’s so much food in this tower, I’ll grab something when we go to bed. It’s no problem,” he chuckled, shaking his head.

Peter nodded, still feeling a little guilty as he took another slice. However, Tony was already turning back to his work, so he picked himself up and moved on. 

“Thank you, Mr. Stark.”

Tony shook his head. “Don’t thank me, this is the noble thing to do. Sometimes to be the perfect mentor to your spider-mutant intern, you have to make sacrifices.” 

Peter rolled his eyes, and then they were back to work.

\---

It was an understatement to say that Peter was worried about breakfast with the Avengers.

Usually when he came to the tower, Peter just ate whatever was on his floor for breakfast. However, since last night when he told Tony he wasn’t eating enough, he insisted on joining the ‘real’ breakfast they had on Sam’s floor.

Yeah, he was terrified.

He’d met Bruce and Tony, of course, but he’d had little to no introduction to any other members. He’d met Clint once when he was doing his homework. He was in a zombie-like trance and making coffee, so he didn’t get a good read on his personality. He’d seen Steve before, but was too nervous to say anything to him. And now, he’d be trapped around a table with most of them. Or all of them at once. There was really no way to know.

He’s thought about wearing his suit for confidence, but Tony shooed the idea away. Everyone else would be in pajama pants and sweatshirts, he’d probably feel more out of place than before. 

So, he woke up the next morning, brushed his teeth, and went to the bathroom. He fixed his hair (but made sure it still looked messy enough that he’d just woken up). He looked at himself in the mirror and spent roughly 20 minutes trying to choose pajamas to wear that seemed effortless enough but still looked nice. And then he was down the hallway, into the elevator, turning the corner, and entering the dining room.

The first thing Peter noticed was the smell. Sweet maple syrup and pancakes and the sharpness of coffee in the air. And then he traced it to the adjacent kitchen and realized that Captain America himself was at the stove. Next to him was one of the largest stacks of pancakes he’d ever seen. Sam was making idle chit-chat with Steve, and across the room, Clint, Tony, and Bruce nursed their coffees at the table. 

From the stories Peter’s heard about breakfast, this was rather tame. He took a deep breath and walked over to Tony.

“Hey, Pete,” Bruce yawned. Clearly, no one in this corner was a morning person. Usually Peter wasn’t either, but he was too nervous to be tired.

“Hi,” Peter greeted and slid into a chair next to Tony. 

“How’d you sleep?” 

Peter shrugged. “Okay.”

That was a lie. He’d tossed and turned and could only think about having breakfast with his childhood heroes the next day. 

On cue, Tony shook his head. “He’s lying. He definitely got less than 4 hours.”

Peter flushed bright red and averted his eyes. 

“Oh, c’mon Tony. He’s a teenager, it’s his job to lie about stuff like sleep,” Clint teased. Tony just shook his head. “Not when said teenager completely lacks any semblance of self preservation instincts,” he grumbled. 

Luckily, the Star Spangled Man With a Plan was there to interrupt the scolding with heaping amounts of breakfast food. Almost immediately, the bickering at the table slowed to a halt and people began to put food onto their plate. 

“So, you’re the infamous Peter.”

Peter blinked up at the Captain, who, frankly, towered above him. Infamous? “H-hey, Captain America,” He shakily replied. He held out his hand to shake, and Peter wiped his on his pajama pants before taking it. 

Steve smiled, eyes warm and inviting. “Call me Steve, kid. It’s nice to have you around.” Peter felt his heart stop. He murmured out a thank you and realized that all of his wildest dreams from childhood had come true.

And with that, Peter listened to the bustle of the heroes around them as they put food on their plates. Bruce wasn’t kidding about Steve’s enhanced metabolism- he put a mountain of food on his plate, and it seemed like he was planning for seconds. But he was Steve, so somehow he made it look graceful and polite as he did.

Clint raised his eyebrows when he took notice of the food on Peter’s plate. “How can you possibly eat that much? You’re a twig. That surely isn’t scientifically possible.”

Peter felt his face go hot, and he looked at his lab under the kitchen table. Tony sighed at Clint and merely told him that “growing boys need to eat, Barton.”

“Still, that’s a lot,” he continued, turning to Tony. “Also, you made me do this, so don’t get mad. How would you know what growing is? You’re like five foot seven.” 

“Why haven’t I bribed Fury into taking you out of the team yet?”

“You love me too much.”

Peter snickered at their bickering and went to his food. He had to admit, it tasted like pure heaven. Peter was used to take-out, fast food, and worst of all, May’s cooking. The last time he’d had something fresh and homemade was at Ned’s house, maybe a month ago. They’d made cookies for a school project. They were good, but they still paled in comparison to the pancakes.

Sam started up conversation again after a moment of silence. “So, Peter...“ 

It would have been awkward under any other circumstance, but everyone was too tired and engrossed in their food to care. “How old are you, kid? You look twelve.”

It occurred to Peter that Sam had probably been waiting to bombard him with questions since he walked into the room. Which, under the circumstance, seemed completely fair. A teenager spending time with Tony was something no one seemed used to.

Peter paused, almost like he was afraid of giving the wrong answer. “I’m 15, but I’m turning 16 pretty soon.” 

Sam‘s eyes widened and he turned to Tony. “Why is there a baby eating breakfast with us? I thought we didn’t eat breakfast with babies.”

“I’m not a baby!” Peter huffed. “I’m a sophomore in high school.”

Tony blinked, and agreed with Sam that Peter was a baby, much to his dismay. “If you have to know,” Tony said, “He’s an intern at the Stark Industries. He’s an honorable science bro.”

Peter’s eyes lit up. “No way, really Mr. Stark? That a big promotion.”

Tony nodded. “Well, you can keep up with Brucey and I, so you’re stuck with us even if you don’t want to be.”

Bruce chose to ignore him. “I forgot to ask, how’d your chemistry test the other day go, Peter?”

“I got a 99%, but only because I forgot units in one of the answers.”

Bruce shook his head. “That’s really your achilles heel, isn’t it?”

Peter sighed and nodded. 

After that, the group fell back into their routine of casual banter. Bruce and Tony talked about a few projects they’d been meaning to start, while Clint told Peter absurd, animated stories about his work as Hawkeye. 

When they’d all finished eating, Steve stood to do dishes and Peter offered his help.. Steve tried to protest, but he refused to listen. His aunt May had taught him well. 

They settled on a routine: Steve refused to have Peter do the brunt of the work, so he washed and rinsed while Peter dried and put away. Except Peter didn’t know where any of the correct cabinets were, so he had to explore around the large kitchen to learn. Peter found that they worked at around the same rate, which made the process very convenient for the both of them. They were mostly silent, but a comfortable kind where Peter was able to slip back to a rhythm. Like what he has with May. 

Peter was gathering dishes to dry when a plate happened to slip out of Steve’s grasp. His hand moved almost automatically, effortlessly catching the plate before it hit the ground.

When Peter moved to dry the near-fallen plate, he couldn’t help but to notice a small smirk on Steve’s face. He was shaking his head, rinsing the suds off of one of the large pancake plates. 

Peter let his gaze linger as he looked up and down the Captain’s face. 

“Nice reflexes, kid.” 

He passed the next plate to Peter, who took it after a moment of hesitation. 

He blinked. “Thanks.” 

Of course Steve had already put the pieces together. It was easy to realize that Peter wasn’t an ordinary kid. He’d practically been clinging to Tony when he first walked into the room, and Tony was the type to hold everyone at an arm’s distance away. He wouldn’t ignore that instinct for any normal intern. 

And besides, not many people shared his intense metabolism.


	2. Spiders Have Good Pitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peter is a closeted music nerd and Tony finally finds out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy y’all! No Far From Home Spoilers here, but if you’re looking for some, check out my new fic Two Sides (Same Face). It’s my baby right now and i’m so proud of it! Hope you like this one!

  1. Spiders tune each strand of web to a specific frequency by making some strands tighter than others, so that when something is caught in it, the spider can easily pinpoint where it is.



 

    Tony always knew that Peter liked music. The first time he met him, flirting with his aunt in his apartment, Peter had unlocked his door humming, with his discarded earbuds still hanging out of his shirt collar. Ever since then, it was sometimes hard to ignore; he was constantly tapping the beat to songs that played in his head, still somehow maintaining the rhythm through conversations and difficult tasks. Peter bragged about having a playlist for everything. He even had a playlist for Spider-Man, even though he chooses not to listen to music on patrol to stay alert. Tony also knows that he was a part of his school’s band, but that was less of a choice of passion and more of a thing that would look good on resumes.

    (“Weren’t you asthmatic?” Tony asked on a whim when band came up in conversation one day, well past the ferry incident. “Were you even physically fit to play trombone, or whatever the hell you did?”

Peter nodded, blushed, and told him quite defensively that _he only passed out once_ and that it wasn’t that big of a deal.)

    The hypothesis that Peter is a music nerd was confirmed, one day, in the form of an off-handed comment during an elevator ride.

    Tony and Peter were coming back up from the lab one night, tired, but satisfied with the progress they’d made. They’d been asked to work on some new technology for Natasha’s cuffs, and had been brainstorming, testing, and improving what they found until about 2:00 AM, when Tony finally noticed the clock in his lab and made the executive order that it was bedtime for anyone below the age of 18.

    Classical music was playing in the elevator. Tony was never a fan of classical, but he’d learned that if he changed it to anything a bit more _colorful_ , it would just be switched back the next day. Peter raised a pointer finger, and with his eyes nearly shut from exhaustion, said, “Mozart’s Allegretto Grazioso is too good for elevator music. I personally prefer Bach, but I’m still gonna need to have a serious word with your music guy,” and yawned.

    Tony wondered if these were the thoughts that he censored on a daily basis in an attempt to not be seen as a know-it-all. If that were the case, Tony was prepared to fight him in order to receive more commentary on music that he didn’t give a shit about.

 

\---

 

    When Tony decided to ask Happy what Peter listened to, he was met with a small sigh. Happy was by no means annoyed by the kid anymore, he’d even taken a liking to him, but he was still trying to figure him out.

    “The kid listens to all sorts of music,” he said, and Tony could tell by the tone of his voice that he was a little out of his depth, wading into unfamiliar territory. “He says he prefers indie music, but to be honest, I don’t think there’s anything that he doesn’t listen to.” Turns out that the kid made Happy a playlist of his favorite music, and if that isn’t one of the most sweet things Peter’s done since Tony met him, he doesn’t know what is.

    Upon further inspection, Peter’s rooted in the 70s- he listens to artists that were gifted to him by May and Ben. There’s some James Taylor, Elton John, and Billy Joel. But then his tastes deviate through the playlist, as if he added it in the order that he found it: Weezer and MGMT flit in, closely followed by Mitski, Mac Demarco, and Alt-J. Then he deviates into 90s rap, followed by R&B and Frank Ocean. The playlist includes everything from old folk to rap to techno to indie. Tony’s a little impressed.

    He wouldn’t have called himself an expert in music or anything- sure, he was a genius, and he received piano lessons from his nanny when he was younger. But he didn’t think that he knew anything particularly above average regarding music. He could understand it- after all, music was just math, and Tony was _good_ at math- but he never donated much time into its official study.

He knew that he indulged more music than people think he did. People generally assumed that Tony almost exclusively listened to Metallica, Black Sabbath, and ACDC, but in actuality, Tony Stark listened to what he wanted, when he wanted to. He listened to The Clash in the lab when he worked. He listened to Frank Sinatra with Pepper on a wine night. If his mood called for John Coltrane, then that’s what he put on. He had an extensive record collection that he did _not_ neglect.

    The first thing that he did for the kid with his new discovery is buy him Spotify premium. No protégé of his would have to deal with ads or the tedious work of pirating music.

 

\---

 

    The next lab day, Tony proposed an idea.

    They usually had something on in the background during lab time, as FRIDAY automatically shuffled Tony’s music whenever he worked. However, they never really paid it any attention, as Tony always had the volume turned down so much that it was almost unrecognizable. He was completely unsure of how loud Peter liked to listen to music with his heightened senses. Tony liked his music _loud_.

    Peter bounced in at 6:00 PM on Friday, clearly in a good mood from his time with Happy.

    “Heya, Mr. Stark,” he called, and flung himself in one of the rolling desk chairs that Tony had placed in the lab. He pushed himself over to Tony’s desk with a kick to the floor. “What are we doing today? Because I think that I might have a new idea regarding my web formula, and it’s not a huge change to the chemical composition, but it might have a _huge_ impact on the disintegration period of the webs-” and just like that, they’re off to work again.

    “Hey.” Tony stopped him just before he trotted away to start gathering chemicals. Peter turned around again to face him with one smooth motion, brows knitting together. “Hmm?”

    Tony swiped up his phone and passed it to the kid, trying to maintain an air of nonchalance. He’d never let anyone else choose ther own music in his lab. Then again, Tony rarely worked in groups. “Pick some music,” he suggested and turned back to his current project.

    Peter cocked his head. _Puppy._ “What do you mean, pick some music? For us both to listen to?” He eyed the phone like it might combust. Tony glanced back and raised his eyebrow at the kid. “Yeah, who else?” He waved the phone around once more.

    Peter rolled his eyes a little bit, finally took the phone out of Tony’s hand, and began to eye the music that he’d downloaded. “What kind of stuff do you listen to?”

“Just, put something on that you like. I’ll pick next time. Make it as loud as you want.” Peter squinted his eyes a little bit, trying to make sense of this sudden change of character, but began to put together a playlist of songs that he liked.

    And it quickly became a ritual. The next day, Tony picked, and the day after, Peter picked again. Sometimes they asked the other what kind of music they were in the mood for, other times they played whatever they wanted. They quickly found common denomonators in both of their tastes and did their best to help each other find new artists. Tony couldn’t hide a smile when he realized that some of his songs were joining Peter’s selections on his days to choose.

 

\---

 

    Peter was way smarter about music than Tony anticipated. He found out that, like the curious bastard that he was, Peter had read multiple books about music theory and memorized them. He knew all the technicalities and terms that went into composing a classical piece, and the intricacies of modern music production. Turns out that his enhanced hearing allowed him to hear all aspects of a song with ease- every instrument, every effect, every background singer.

    (The only thing that Peter wasn’t good at was remembering which songs were by which artists. God, Tony thought he might kill Peter if he referred to Scorpions as Pink Floyd one more Time.)

Tony decided to buy a piano for the Compound. He put it in one of the larger living areas and told Peter that he’d owned it for a while, but it was in storage, and he’d only recently had the idea to move it into the Compound. A lie, maybe, but Peter wasn’t used to being spoiled that much yet and he’d feel guilty. He’d tell him later.

Peter learned to play in a single weekend that he visited, without any lessons and minimal guidance from Tony. He just picked it up, like it was second nature. And then Tony gets him an acoustic guitar, owns up to that purchase too, and Peter manages to do the same. It takes a little longer to master the spaces between strings and strumming technique, but he still gets it _fast._ Tony could not be more proud of him, even if he tried.

 

\---

 

    It’s a little under a month later that he finally understands. Peter was playing Cocteau Twins that afternoon. He gently swayed through Cherry-Coloured Funk, too absorbed in Tony’s nanotechnology to recognize when he started to sing along to the music. He was soft in tone, not quite loud enough to be recognized until he reached the chorus and took the melody down the octave.

    Something finally clicks. “You have perfect pitch,” Tony thought aloud. “Don’t you?”

    Peter looked up and flushed a little, grimancing in embarrassment. “Was I singing? I’m sorry, May says that I do that when I cook sometimes, I don’t even really notice-”

    Tony shook his head, picked up his phone, and instantaneously downloaded a keyboard app. “You know, you don’t have to be a music prodigy too, kid. You just like to keep surprising me, don’t you?” He tapped a key. “What note is that?”

    Peter blinked. “F5.”

    Tony sighed and rolled his eyes, but a grin grew on his face. “Leave some for the rest of us next time, Pete.” He just blushed and murmured a “thank you, Mr. Stark,” in reply.

    They learned, as time went on, that Peter could hear differences in notes just one Hertz apart from each other. Clearly a superhero thing then, but still damn impressive.

    He likes to tease Tony with it sometimes. They’ll be grabbing something for Peter to eat during a break in the kitchen when Peter will smirk a little and say, “the fridge is humming in B flat,” or, “you’re speaking in D major right now.” Tony tells Peter he’s showing off, Peter grins and reminds him that _Tony Stark_ is calling him a show off. He can’t argue with that.

    Tony appreciates this little side effect of his powers. He likes when the universe gives Peter a push in the non-risking-your-life-for-other-people direction. It doesn’t happen a lot, definitely not often enough, but he always feel grateful when it does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a tumblr! it’s @macaronigrilleao3. If you have any requests for something you wanna read or prompt memes you want me in on, send them my way!
> 
> (i hope i did peter’s taste in music justice please no one fight me lol)


End file.
